The girl with april in her eyes
by Lilifana
Summary: Emma White is 15 years old and comes from district 12. Her Mission: Going to the Hungergames without killing but using the attention she gets to spark a rebellion, because Katniss haven't been able to. She doesn't think she is going to survive. A collection of songfictions, inspired by Chris de Burghs song "The girl with April in her eyes."


The girl with April in her Eyes. The reaping /Seven Bridges

_Sometimes I go down my street without a glance_

I walk down the streets, looking around, but without looking in the eyes of the people around me, knowing what to see then. Scar, fear, hunger, desperation, sadness, everything but nothing good. We all are on the same way. We are walking to the square, having to take path on the reaping.

_And I long to see my childhood days again_

I still remember, not having to go there. I was so wonderfully free. But I was starving, my father died, my mother being pregnant. He was in the coal-mines, which exploded. I had to sign in for tesserae stones, feeding my mother and myself. Most time, my mother god most of the food, she was on the street the whole day, trying to collect money, but no one was able to give, losing their husbands themselfes and our food wasn't much anyway.

_Sometimes I can hardly even stay still_

I kept moving, being not able to glance at anyone. Who will be chosen today? Whose daughter will leave this district and her family, die and never come back? Who's live will change forever? Whose son will lose his life for nothing? Whose night will be full of nightmares? Who will be the one? How old will they be?

_Needing something new behind the doors I go through_

I which there was a way out. But I can't find one. A rebellion doesn't work, we have seen that. It might be the right way, but no one would dare. It made life so much worse. It gave us the Hunger games last time. But this is not a circumstance. It can't go on like this anymore.  
_Sometimes I am hot and then I'm cold_

I am often full of anger, because people starving here, while the capitol-people are living in luxury, because of the Hunger Games, because of the poorness, because of the gap between the rich ones in the capitol and the poor ones in the districts. It feels like a flame in my heart, it feels like I am on fire. And then, I recognize, how small I am, how week. That there is nothing I can do, when I am alone. And it feels like my body is on ice, unable to move, unable to breath, imprisoned in passivity.

_When I know that there is something going on  
in the places that we all have to go_

I came to the square, and in the moment I saw the stage, I really got scared. Will I be the one, being chosen to go to the capitol, being prepared to fight in an arena against 23 other children, coming from the other districts? I wish I would be, because than I haven't to stand to see the sad faces of the remained. The major comes up the stage, starting his speech about the dark days, the rebellion, and how the Hunger Games are formed. He reads the list of victors. According to the agreement, read by him too, one girl and one boy will be chosen as tribute now. The keeper of District 12, Galina Desire comes up too. She walks over to the boles contents the names of the potential tributes. "Welcome. Welcome." She says. "Again, the time has come to select one courageous man and woman, to represent District 12 in the 81st annual Hunger Games. " She walks over to the left bole and takes out one slip of paper. "Emilia Ali." A little, nearly starved twelve-years-old girl made her way towards the stage. Tears were in her eyes. We all have to watch how she walks down her way, falling again and again. She have to be the mockery of whole Panem now, she wouldn't get any sponsors. It was so unfair, she was so young.

_Before we see the right that's in a wrong_

I kept this one thought the hole year, after an promising 18-years old Boy was chosen last year, leaving a mother, wasn't able to stand the greef. She killed herself, just after his son died. And seeing this little girl, is giving me the courage to do what I always thought about.  
_  
There are seven bridges to be crossed_

It will be hard, but before I let this little girl go to the capitol, I would die myself. "I volunteer." The words come out my throat loud, firm and clearly. I don't volunteer to kill, I volunteer to die. Cause there is no way I will be a murderer. It was a surmounting, yes, but I am sure it's the right way. If I want to move anything I have to sacrifice. And sometimes you have to sacrifice to your life. Sometimes you have to do something, being a human and not a pile of dirt. I crossed the bridge of egoism, and now I have to cross some other ones too. But I think it is the right way to bring us out of oppression. Maybe, I am able to move something, being in the arena.  
_Seven years of darkness to survive_

We survived 81 years, being the victim of the capitol. It's time for a change now. I won't survive the next weeks, if I did, I would hate myself. Because it meant, I had been killing anyone.  
_Seven times in oceans to be lost_

I will be crying, surly. I will be on the end of my power, when I die, but I will not have lost my belief in not killing to move anything. Because If I did , I do what the capitol expects me to, and I would be nothing but a peace in their games.  
_But then I'll see the shining light_

And maybe, maybe I can give some hope to the districts, sparking a rebellion.  
And this oppressing would finally come to an end. Maybe, everything is going to change. Starvation stops, and the conditions of life will be better. This is something, being worth to fight for, even when this fight means certain death for me.  
_Sometimes seems the hands of time are standing still_  
I walk up the stairs, followed by thousands of eyes. It is absolutely silent, I can hear my heart beating fast and strong. I look in my friends eyes, seeing surprise, shock, admiration and scar. No one is moving, except of me of course. I am walking up the stairs.

_And it feels that things are going round and round_

I am reminded to the Hunger Games 7 Years ago. It was the same atmosphere as now, when Katniss volunteered for her sister. I was just eight, but I can remember. After it, it was same as before. Children are chosen, leaving their families crying, absolutely terrified. _  
Sometimes we all have the need to get away ,And to sit in silence all by yourself_

And I take a last breath, encouraging myself, recognizing the first time that I really have done it. And I admire myself for doing it. I am not scared, life is just a circumstance, death too. I just hope, it's something worth. And if I would not be able to spark anything, I would have saved a life anyway. And it would be enough to be happy with it. I am thinking about how much the odds are in my favor to affect anything. __

Sometimes hands can reach out to the world

In the Hunger Games, I will be focused by the Nation until I die. There has to be a chance to show how silly the Games are. Sometimes one can move a mountain, if he makes an impression.

_Maybe lucky stars are on the way_

And maybe, Panem will agree, it's time for a change now. And maybe, the cruel dominance of President Snow will finally stop.  
_Sometimes we are taking when we should give_

And I recognize, the capitol isn't the only place, things are going wrong. We have rich ones, which can afford a cake in the bakery, while, just some streets away, a child is starving. And this are the ones, reveal the poor ones to the peacekeepers when they crossed a law. They should help them, so that they haven't to do it anymore. Because it isn't an act of greed, but of desperation.

_And hate the things that we still really love_

We all should stop to be more interested in us than in the ones around us. We should hate it, if we have more than the others, and should not be lucky with it. I breath in, turning to Galina Desire. "My name is Emma White, 15 years old." I say, and, pointing on the microphone: "May I say something?" She nodded.

_There are seven bridges to be crossed_

_Seven years of darkness to survive_

"Mum,?" I begin, looking into the desperate eyes of my parents. "I am sorry. But I couldn't stand the misery, I found in the eyes of the parents, having lost their children anymore. We tolerated the oppression of the capitol far too long. I won't do that anymore. I can't stand to walk through the streets of the Seem anymore, to see children watching for foot in the rubbish, nearly breaking down.

We survived 81 years of darkness, darker than this _terrible_ dark days. Our way out of salvation is long, but we eventually have to start walking. I start now, saving once life. I am sacrifice my life for little Emilia, but I am not sacrifice my belief. That we, if we stand together, can change our desperation in hope, because nothing is worse than our life conditions.

_Seven times in oceans you'll be lost_

We all will have to sacrifice, maybe to our lifes. We will cry, we will suffer, but this is what we need to do for our future, for our children. I volunteered, because I want to be a human, and not a pile of dirt. And humans act, when they see something is wrong._  
And then you'll see the shining light_

And after our fight, there will be hope for us. The sun with its light will finally wipe away the coal dust, together with our greef, our hunger, our terrible life. And it will leave just light, luck, hope. Just that, what we deserve.__

There are seven bridges to be crossed

For me, there will be many barriers to find my way. 23 people will try to kill me. And one of them will do, because I won't kill anybody. _  
Seven years of darkness to survive_

But if I survive just some days, maybe I am able to show, how wrong everything is._  
Seven times in oceans you'll be lost_

I will be at my limits, I will leave greef here too. But if I didn't go, I wouldn't be anything worth._  
And then you will see the shining light_

I hope to find a paradise behind the walls of death. _  
And then you will see the shining light_

And I hope, when I look down, that I will find a paradise here too, one day.


End file.
